Long Adjacent Poems

Long Adjacent Poems. Below are the most popular long Adjacent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adjacent poems by poem length and keyword.


Early Mid Afternoon May 22nd 2020

Early/mid afternoon May 22nd, 2020...

Raindrops percolate Perkiomen Valley watershed
pleasant reprieve versus quite warm temperatures
yesterday found yours truly averse attempting re:
ding outside, the secluded alcove visible looking
thru single bedroom window here, once upon time

former Schwenksville Elementary School, now re:
purposed Highland Manor apartment alphanumeric
unit B44, 2day precipitation lightly palpitating terra
firma quenching thirsty flora and fauna donning viz
age fifty plus shades of lush green meteorological

regular phenomena offsets prospect where drought
would deprive biota requisite liquid nourishment
speculation June, July, and August promise triple
digits essentially forcing creature comfort ala air
conditioning as climate control to weather extreme

hot temperatures linkedin with global warming, a
grim prospect lately tempered courtesy coronavirus
COVID-19 inexplicably temporarily giving respite
the Earth atmosphere purportedly less toxic since
countless manifold modes of industrial production

lockdown subjected since employees in quarantine
to thwart contagion infecting adjacent areas, thus
impacting transportation hub, no substantial traffic
most rerouted thru information superhighway data
bits and bytes sent to and fro, hither and yon, until

"green light" signalled for businesses to reorient
themselves to alternate paradigm, hoop fully more
eco friendly less dependent upon fossil fuels, where
greenhouse gases deplete ozone layer compromising
delicate balance offset severely trending toward by

Yoda - star wars pitched battles witnessing galactic
empires armed 2 teeth with supersonic weapons mass
destruction spelling demise of human civilization
think brinkmanship whereby within eyeblink en-
tire realm encompassing eastern, western, northern

southern, brethren and cistern multifarious legacies
snuffed out without a trace extinguishing gamut of
living things great and small, perchance world wide
web overtaken with radiation resistant critters, an
unrecognizable changing of the guard when no pry

mates abled (Cain not) wrest control against giant
size carnivorous entities deliciously feast carrion
until nothing but lovely bleached (bomb shelled)
bones scattered across the pock marked terrestrial
landscape - mush room 4 opportunistic organisms.


You Cannot Choose Your Family Nor Forgive There Mistakes If All They Do Is Hurt

The best writters write about what they know

So i was told or so the story goes

So what better then to write about than one's very own family and lasting memories

So let me start by saying this is neither a good or happy one to tell

And to this day still leaves a bitter taste and so many questions left unanswered

And is about or revolves around the treatment of my grandad by his only son

My Mum is one of 2 children 7 year's older than her younger brother Thomas

Who used to visit his daughter lisa
regularly who lived right next door adjacent to his childhood home

And when seeing him pulling up the smile upon my granddad face as he used to think our Thomas will be calling in to see us when he is done only to be replaced by pain and embarrassment when he cruely drove away

People used to say and it was widely thought or known in jest that i was my granddads favorite

But i knew that sadly wasn't true and
my place when he looked right through me and nothing i could do say could reconcile his broken heart

Luckily my Mum came home to live and look after her father and nursed him until the day he died when he eventually called in 

The prodigal son then returned with will in hand  
to take over proceedings from here on in

Better late than never i suppose ?

Oh yeah that's right 

Sorry that phrase does not apply
in this case

As to why you let him die or go to his
grave without explaing ?

What exactly he could have done so wrong
to have had such a bitter vindictive son ?

Just how cruel and careless can 1 human be to another
than not to afford them 1 single moment of your precious time

No final word no venting no getting off your chest
no restitution no absolution

You used to go out with his best friend for a pint
to the pub for a drink but never invited him

And told your sister upon her arrival back to look after him
you can come and stay with us you can't stay with him his house is not liveable in

You through whom i ended up buying and owning the deeds to your family home because that you grew up in as a child
because you valued money and wanted your share and half

Who you eventually came to realize that which you prize
I now own i will never sell back to thee

Because what you did to my granddad your father was 
genuinely unforgivable

Premium Member 1140 Royal Street

The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.  

Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the  plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.

She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed.  Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.

Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained  acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.

This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and  murdered any slave that displeased her. 

                                           ~~~

I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she  fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again. 

Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.  

Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.

Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again

BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, you...like me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.

                                                ~~~


Poetry form: Haibun

For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane

PLACED SECOND
Form: Haibun

Real Estate Jargon Explained

Real Estate Jargon Explained

By Elton Camp

When a house is for sale there’s good reason why
Trouble can come to anyone who advertises a lie

If the sellers certain expressions carefully choose
It will become easy the careless buyer to confuse

“This house is simply loaded with charm.”
Means we hope old and ugly won’t alarm

If you see it’s a “Pet friendly neighborhood,”
Dog manure in your yard should be understood

The praising note, “Easy access to the freeway”
Means thousands will pass your house each day

Beware the notation of “Low maintenance lot.”
Since neither front nor back yards have you got

“Historic house maintained in its original state”
It is a run-down old relic that you soon will hate

“It’s a doll house that you are going to adore.”
The house’s tiny rooms you’ll come to deplore

“The dwelling is located on a fine corner lot”
Then traffic both front and sides you have got

If the place is described as “Ready to move in,”
Then painted with the cheapest grade it has been

“A desirable neighborhood” means that its location
Has made it overpriced due to a snobbish reputation

If of “In-city living” the seller proudly does tell
Not safe to walk after dark it should say as well

If it is a “Handy-man special,” then better look out
The old place is ready to collapse without any doubt

If the advertisement should say, “Lots storage space,”
The basement is nothing but a dark, moldy disgrace

If the selling point is of “Seasonal water view,”
It means water was visible before the trees grew

If the seller says that “All your lot is usable land,”
You can know that not a single tree still does stand

If “Close to shopping” the advertisement does call
It means your backyard is adjacent to the big mall

When the imperative is that you must “See inside,”
It has a horrid exterior that is impossible to hide

If it is happily described as “Cozy, it should be read
That no room is big enough to contain a full-size bed

This is how “Make an offer” you actually should take:
It’s been long on the market so don’t make a mistake

The inviting phrase is “Watch wildlife from your patio”
You can expect to get ticks and fleas if outside you go

So if your house purchase in a year you will praise,
Watch carefully for the real meaning of each phrase
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Lita

We’re on Fall break this week and Peter’s favorite aunt - Lita - is visiting. Lita’s a tall, slim woman (eek! A guess), in her early sixties. She’s nicely weathered and tan. I’m sure she once had Peter’s blue-black hair but now it’s mostly white and styled in a loose braid. I think she rocks the coastal grandma aesthetic with a wardrobe of mostly pale tans, whites and flats.

Peter has all kinds of stories about her - she’s a character. When Peter was 5, on Halloween, Lita pretended to sacrifice a chicken, cackling, like a witch. He was wide-eyed until she admitted she was just making fried chicken for dinner.

Lita lives on property adjacent to Peter’s parents, but hers is larger, more of a farm, where she raises chickens and grows Meyer-lemons and persimmons. This may explain why Peter slices up lemons, dips them in sugar and eats them like oranges (I shiver). Peter told me that Lita always liked fruit, which is why she bought Apple stock in 1997.

From what I’ve learned, talking to Lita, she practically raised Peter’s dad (David). Their parents had a boy before her, an older brother she doesn’t remember meeting because he drowned at a church outing when she was a toddler. Their parents, in their grief, had turned in on themselves, becoming as self-centered as gyroscopes.

They’d left Lita by herself for weeks at a time, to raise herself on a more-or-less trial-and-error basis. So, when David came along 13 years later, he became her responsibility. She started working as an auto mechanic and eventually opened a couple of shops of her own. She describes herself as more well-read than formally educated - as if knowledge had just settled on her, like dust from an old library.

“Teressa (Peter’s mom) is very curious about you,” Lita confides to me as we huddle together over venti pumpkin lattes, “Peter’s very tight-lipped where you’re concerned.”
“He is?” I ask, confused, “maybe he’s ashamed,” I venture, “or maybe he’s planning to dump me?”  Lita looks amused, ”uh huh, that’s probably IT,” she agrees.
“Look! I say excitedly, pulling an envelope from my purse, “It’s my first-ever paycheck,” I beam. I make a production of opening the thing, like an Oscar envelope. “$223,” I read, shaking my head in admiration, then adding, with sincere sounding hyperbole, ”he can’t dump me NOW, I’m RICH!”


She

I know you know what happened the year we graduated. Just like everything else, it trickled down the grape vine. We were seniors when SHE said she wanted a blue dress for prom. SHE wanted to teach disabled children, an aspiration that came from her love for a baby cousin who had cerebral palsy. SHE and I had art class together our seats adjacent to each other. Her poorly done imitation of a Frida Khalo masterpiece was praised for the effort behind it. That morning I was on my way to school, I had seen a picture of her on facebook from the night before. SHE had attended fright fest, and looked like she had an incredible time. I was on the bus during my morning commute when I saw her on again off again boyfriend. He and I were practically strangers, but I could see he was having a rough day. He had bags under his eyes, ‘probably one of those off times’, I thought. During my first period class SHE hadn't come in yet, probably getting breakfast. My principal called a senior meeting on the loud speakers, the girl next to me rolled her eyes while applying a third layer of lip gloss and mentioned something about senior dues. I sighed as I stood up, as if the world were on my shoulders. I made my way to the auditorium, losing my cohort on the way down. I slouched in the back of the auditorium with my baggy hoodie pulled up to hide my face,I felt myself nodding off. I was always sleepy, and tired of something. “Alyssa committed suicide over the weekend.”  I felt a shock come over me, my tears fell as sobs racked my body and the loudest silence overtook my mind. SHE had committed suicide. SHE who had wanted a blue dress, SHE who had gone to fright fest the night before in a green hoodie and posted a smiling photo on facebook.SHE was graduating in less than 7 months and had only lived sixteen years. SHE had easily become a WAS. SHE was the wails that bounced on the walls of the pink girl's bathroom months after it happened, SHE was the boy screaming in the hallway during my math class for her to come back. Eventually SHE was just an auditorium in silence while her parents walked across the stage for her, and the graduating class drowned in their tears. SHE was just a folded cap and gown and a middle school photo in a high school yearbook.
© Ron Lll  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Prose

Fierce Fictional Fraternal Fallout

That dormant feeling of insecurity arose,
when travel journal got thrust adjacent
     to my tattered (holey tattooed) clothes
while I knew with crossed eyes

     aroused anger from peaceful doze
my younger sister felt about her
     globe trotting exploits, an over expose
jour ever since voyaging out on her own

     after graduating top of her class
     where mine hatred glows
indirectly snidely sneering
     at ma dough less brother hoboes

(a 1979 Methacton High School alumni),
     unanimously chosen valedictorian
     dressed in Calvin Klein
     Harris tweed, couture

     and silk panty hose
like me prolonging, promoting
     on par with quasi staff sergeant, who knows
artful disciplinarian gingerly launching rules,

     asper formerly commanding G.I. Joes
     and pronouncing, predilection
     exhaling natural highs no lows
traveling solo, with surviving Wilburys,

     or just mows 
zing nonchalantly
     (though a foreigner) with swarthy skin color
     easily camouflaging as civilian
     all points on the compass,

     where minute needle doth nose
upon returning home (being honorably feted
     at once glorious estate of Glen Elm,
     where she did propose

to the Lord Taylor (swiftly), which location
     situated at 324 Level Road, Collegeville,
     Pennsylvania 19426),
     thence a great huzzah a rose

an immediate nauseousness welled
     within from me head tummy smelly toes
I did not want to here, or see any details,
     which would accentuate personal woes

popping, snapping, and smarting,
     and slapping skin raw tib bits,
     ache'n to yanked strings
     of mama's heirloom yo-yos!

Poet Script:

trials and tribulations,
     visited upon head of young
concocted ("FAKE") gusty and gutsy
     kid sister enterprising ingenue,

     christened easy on the tongue
Sharodd (not her real name),
     to top off talents sung
like a professional opera singer, which rung

a shiver along small hairs of spine did tingle
heard all the way to Lake Woebegone
where bachelor farmers did mingle

every Christmas, a decreasing 
     number donned Kris Kringle
hit with blitzkrieg of yawping brats 
     hoof pranced to bell weather jingle!

Love Flowers Romantic Gestures Tender Kiss Love Eve

For if ever I was I to summon up
forthwith the words to write something
anything befitting worthy of you yourself

I fear that trite would be the only
apt way and means to describe
my bestest yet falling failing short
of effort and expectations

And can I that hasn't already been said
and spoken of you that hasn't already
been said by far better folk than I

Apart  from what  you are and represent
to me is everything single good thing
I have done and thought that entered 
my head 

So much so it wouldn't be redundant of
me to say that when it comes to love 

I not you am in fact the lucky one that
love did chose to bless and render
you blind

Otherwise if you weren't why on earth
would you have ever given me a fleeting
glance second look or moment of your
time 

Serendipity to my dismay for whatever
reason gave me you more than I could
ever possibly wished for ever wanted
in every way 

I'm still in awe and anyone who knows
me will tell I have bored them all to
death as all I ever seen to talk about is
you

Now all that I have left to do is go to
bed say my prayers will hopefully one 
day be finally answered and sleep and
dream of you

Because I have yet to meet you , you do not
exist apart from an aperture of my own
creation revolving inside my head

That sometime in the not to distant
awaits me when eventually both our
paths cross

And love no longer becomes a fairytale
but I get to wake up next to and find
out what it actually feels like to experience

What it is to be loved and love and
reciprocate that love to a certain 
someone back

Someone who I get to buy flowers for
no apparent reason other than today
at work a thought of you popped into 
my head and I began to smile from
ear to ear 

Never i shall I compare thee to a summer's day
or thy presence or beauty to that of but a rose

Unless that rose is firmly clasped betwixt
your finger's whilst head is ever so slightly 
tilted down raking in floral scents perfumery

Or summer if it be set adjacent back
illuminating your silhouette with vestal
angel radiant celestial white gold

So much so I had to stop and wonder
to myself if she may just well be 
Eve's reincarnation herself

Deep Seated and Connected

Deep seated and connected
Deep seated and connected, my collection plate feels naked, been adjacent to ills and thrills of my spills, causing heartache. My thoughts go round and round like the earth rotates, I have expectations that haven’t come to pass, I had let go of meditating on the pass mishaps and just move forward best that I could, still trying. All awhile have to also let go of the few times I saw my life flash by, and never again contemplate suicide because I have no right to take my own life from the one who created this experience for me – because it’s a blessing either way it goes.
Either way it goes…
Sometimes I go backwards looking out window blinds waiting for my dad to show up, to save me, who knew that he needed to be saved too? Who knew that the things you go through builds character and creates, molding into shape to make your backbone stronger, I longer and hungered for things that were not for me to change, but my reactions to the chaos was more relevant for my future than I initially understood, but it’s all good. Deep seated and connected, my collection plate feels naked, been adjacent to ills and thrills of my spills, causing heartache. 
Remembering being in the car with nowhere to go, no destination, riding around hoping to look to others like I was on my way to somewhere great, the lies we create to hide the things we despise. In the parking of a grocery store, watching the rain compile against my window pain, while trying to situate myself in a comfortable state to sleep the night, lock the car doors hope the boxes squeezed in this tiny space can detour anyone who walks by…I was thankful for the rain…it was right on time didn’t have to reach my tear duct eyes. My soul was in disarray. 
Trials and tribulations are inevitable, the test that we face at times can seem unbearable, but in due time the light will too shine, and all the darkness will become the catalyst that make your resilience for life circumstances and situations easier to endure, I explore the peace that comes without cost, without boast, just the inner voice that says stay with me, walk with me, and don’t give up. I got you, I got you…

Stay Deep seated and connected.

©StephanieGutierrez2015
Form: Lyric

Haunted House

We were invited to a house
which had a rusty door.
We went inside and heard a sound
made by the creaky ____________.   
boar   floor   store

We looked around the living room.
We tried to find our host.
And there he was — all dressed in white —
a very airy  _____________.    
toast  roast  ghost

"Come in," he said and smiled to us.
It was a creepy smile.
"I hope that you can stay with me,
if only for a  ________________."    
while  tile  file

"Please have a seat and stretch your legs
right by this cozy fire."
We turned around, and on a chair
we noticed a ________________  
blue tire     church spire      vampire

"I want to introduce to you
someone you'll like, I think.
His favorite animals are bats.
Guess what's his favorite __________?" 
sink    mink    drink

And on a ragged, dusty couch
in an adjacent room
we could not help but glimpse a witch
and her enormous _______________ .  
loom   broom   bloom

Her toothless mouth was very wide.
She cackled like a bird.
It was a horrid, piercing sound —
the vilest ever _________________.    
heard    nerd    curd

Our gracious host then turned around
and said: "If you won't sit,
then come with me and look inside
my lovely viper _______________."   
mitt    pit    grit

The pit was dank and deep and dark.
It made our fingers numb.
"I keep the vipers in this place
to please my aging _____________ ." 
drum  crumb  mum

The mummy waved to us, and then
a closet opened wide.
We saw no clothes; instead there was
a skeleton ___________________.       
collide    divide    inside

Its knuckles cracked; it danced about
to music played so well
by hunchbacks swinging back and forth
on a gigantic  ________________.            
bell    well    cell.

Three headless butchers joined the dance
with their three headless wives.
They wore no hats, and off their belts
there dangled jagged ____________.     
drives    knives    hives

We thought we'd better go away,
when right before our eyes
they all threw off their ghoulish suits
and screamed to us: "______________!"  
fat flies     surprise      blue skies
Form: Rhyme

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